


Seven Scars

by bjorn_ironside



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fights, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Maybe slow build, Rough Kissing, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27422905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjorn_ironside/pseuds/bjorn_ironside
Summary: Alfred asks the perplexed Ubbe to teach him how to fight - so that they can fend off King Harald's army. But neither of them suspect that these hours will be much more.
Relationships: Alfred/Ubbe (Vikings)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 37





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you asked for an Alfred / Ubbe story - and since I keep my promises, there you go! :) I've never written anything with this ship before, and I hope you enjoy it anyway. Have fun with it! <3

English people were a lot.

Vengeful, bossy, petty, and a little soft. They liked to drink their alcohol from pretty glasses, and they ate with strange tools; their jewelry was much richer, and they were too proud. Heads full of wood wool. And always thinking bad about the others.

But when Ubbe heard the words of the new, extremely young king of England, his body got no reaction other than slightly opening his mouth and drawing together his dark eyebrows. His blue eyes turned in disbelief on the young king - sure, he had heard of him. The son of the famous Aethelwulf, who had already known his father, as well as the grandson of the great Ekbert. The man for whom Ubbe originally wanted to come here.

But definitely not because of _this_.

A deep snort slipped from Ubbe as he glanced at the pale king again; his arms were still crossed over his chest, but he opened them when the young king cleared his throat.

"You seem disturbed," remarked the boy; Ubbe narrowed his eyes slightly and frowned; of course, he looked like this. What else could he say? And above all - why him?

"Well, I mean... you? So, you want - what?”, Ubbe uttered roughly; his voice had not lost its deep sound since his youth, and it was precisely this depth in the voice that now made the young king Alfred blush in a light, darkish red tone on the cheek. For a moment Alfred blinked slightly; Ubbe could see that his rough inquiry irritated the boy slightly.

Alfred opened his mouth slightly, then closed it again. His brown eyes lingered on Ubbe for a moment, and then he started with a soft tone: “I want you to teach me how to fight like your people. Whatever... it looks like."

"Fighting. You. And me?”, Ubbe asked roughly; he couldn't help it, but his eyebrows rose again. It was like a bad joke to him. There stood this pale, little, incredibly fragile-looking king of England, certainly not 20 years old, and asked him to teach him how to fight like a real Viking. Ubbe wrinkled his nose and looked at Alfred; his body already looked puny with all the robes and cloaks; how could he ever hold an ax? Or a sword?

“I ask you to do this in private because I - I know that I don't look like a born fighter. I understand your sorrow therefore-", Alfred said quietly, but Ubbe only started to snort again.

"Sorrow? No. I'm afraid I'll hurt you by accident before you even strike.”, Ubbe replied with a deep murmur; his hand ran through his hair, grabbed some of the tightly braided hair, and ran over the clean-shaven sides of his head. He felt strange. Surely, he should have seen it as an honor to have been asked by the young king at all - but this was no game. He could seriously injure him, and he and his people would be beheaded before dawn.

Alfred swallowed softly; he looked visibly nervous, but his brown eyes did not turn away from Ubbe, who was still chewing on his lower lip, extremely unimpressed, and looking at the king as if he had just announced that he would now renounce Christianity.

“So… you have to help me. My people are weak in spirit, and I know they have always wanted my brother to be a strong leader. I want to be that role model for them. I can't - well, I'll assure you of the land you want. But I really need your help, Ubbe."

The king's pale face was now dark red; whole, soft streaks of red ran over the otherwise flawless, completely scar-free skin, and with a slight movement Alfred brushed the brown, elongated hair behind his ears. He only briefly avoided Ubbe’s gaze, who was still standing in front of him with slightly folded arms.

It had always been father’s dream to settle a few areas in England - and finally, finally, he got the chance. He knew full well that Torvi, Björn and Lagertha would object to it, but at the moment, he didn't care. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Ubbe’s deep blue eyes focused again on the young king, who had meanwhile stretched out his hand - the hand almost looked like a woman’s hand, so incredibly delicate. The boy was going to have a hell of a lot of calluses and blisters on his fingers, Ubbe already knew that.

He bit his lip briefly again; only then did he take his hand and squeezed it briefly. Apparently a little too tight, because Alfred made a barely noticeable face and let out a short, quiet breath, which Ubbe noticed very well. It was a mystery to him why the king had chosen _him_ in particular - after all, his brother Björn was built by far wider and was also slightly taller. But actually, it wasn't too bad here either.

When their hands let go, Ubbe nodded slightly to the king.

“Tomorrow morning, we'll meet in the clearing by the forest. The small forest, the eastern-"

“To the east, yes I know. As a child, I was often there with my grandfather."

Ubbe raised his eyebrows again and looked briefly at the king; then he uttered a soft "Well then", and walked off towards the door. As he walked through the large, softly polished doors, he could feel Alfred looking after him.

Well, that could be exciting.

He saw the boy already frightened lying in a hollow, pleading for his life. Because there was one thing he certainly wasn't - born to be a warrior. He hadn't even had a single, tiny scar on his face.

-

Ubbe was up early the next morning. He had got himself out of bed before dawn, very quietly so that he wouldn't wake Torvi. He had slept badly - but he had since they'd even arrived in England. The beds were too soft for him, the alcohol too dull, the food too little. It just didn't help his mood that he now had to teach the slender descendant of king Aethelwulf to fight from scratch. With all due respect - and Ubbe snorted softly as he had that thought within himself - the boy could barely hold a fork.

With a soft sigh, Ubbe put on his normal clothes, pulled on his dark boots and tied the wide, leather belt, on which two of his axes were also hanging on the side, around his hips. When he took a quick look outside, he could see that at least it wasn't raining, even if the light haze of fresh morning mist was still covering the castle in which they were housed.

And luckily no longer in the cell in the dungeon. Ubbe hated being cooped up like an animal, bound in chains like a mangy dog.

The castle was still completely silent and sleepy when he grabbed a sack full of axes and swords and tossed it over his broad shoulder; he glanced briefly at the shields leaning against a wall; for a moment he hesitated whether to take them with him. But then he decided to let the young king jump into the ice-cold water. Did he want to learn to fight? He could have that.

When he reached the soft clearing, which was now lit by a gentle morning ray, he put down his axes and swords and picked up his own. To warm up easily, he made a couple of trial throws against an old and ramshackle tree that was directly opposite him; and he grinned slightly. He had definitely not forgotten how to throw an ax. And just as he was putting his axes back into the little loops in his belt, Alfred came into the clearing.

Ubbe almost didn't recognize him. The king looked different - because he had cut his hair. The long hair, which looked so light brown yesterday, was very short and gave Alfred a far more mature expression. Sure, the skin on his face was still pale and scarless - and he had that soft blush on his cheeks again, probably from the cold - but the hairstyle suited him a lot better, especially since it looked a bit darker. He looked almost male.

Nearly.

Ubbe raised an eyebrow when Alfred approached him uncertainly. The king wore black leather armor, which was decorated with many silver elements and shimmered softly in the rising light. It must have cost a fortune - but it wasn't the simple armor of a peasant either. Unsure and his shy, brown eyes fixed on Ubbe, Alfred stopped exactly where Ubbe wanted him - in front of a thick oak that had almost no leaves in autumn.

“Greet you, Ubbe. I didn't know if I was on time.” Alfred put on a warm smile, and Ubbe nodded slightly and put on a grin that tensed slightly at the corner of his mouth.

And then, without warning or a word, Ubbe yanked his ax firmly from the loop with one lightning-fast movement and threw it at Alfred with one rough and hard movement. Alfred only dodged so narrowly that the ax only missed him by a hair - it was so sharp that Ubbe felt a slight twitch in his fingers. And yet he met the young king's gaze defiantly, his eyebrows still raised.

The pure shock was written on Alfred's face - his mouth was wide open, and the otherwise pale boy now looked like a corpse freshly pulled from the river; for a moment he stared at Ubbe in shock, with wide eyes, before saying, slightly shaky: "Ubbe, what the-"

But Ubbe did not hear. He took a slight lunge backwards, and again with a lightning-quick movement grabbed his ax and threw it as roughly and hard onto the tree trunk behind Alfred as before. This time Alfred evaded just as badly as before; as if he hadn't seen the ax coming.

Ubbe gave a deep snort; he raised one arm and pointed to the two axes behind Alfred, and the young king looked around, startled.

"That…", Ubbe said roughly and deeply; he went up to the axes and tore them with one rough movement from the old tree trunk of the oak; “…that, my good king, was pathetic. If I had wanted you to be dead - well, you would be lying on the ground right now."

Alfred opened his mouth again, then closed it again; his lower lip trembled slightly, and Ubbe could feel that the young king was slightly tense. Now that he was so close, he could even see the slight tremor that shot Alfred through his limbs.

"Ubbe, that-" he began, but Ubbe only laughed briefly and darkly in response. He was already on his way to his previous location, and stood there with his legs slightly apart, his face turned to Alfred, who was still in a kind of shock.

"Wait a minute, Ubbe, what are you going to do..." Alfred uttered, shivering slightly, but one of the axes flew again against the old tree trunk behind him, closer to the soft face than ever. Ubbe grinned slightly - it was going to be fun. When else could you throw axes at kings?

The second ax followed immediately, but this time Alfred evaded much better than the first time, which was certainly also due to the fact that Ubbe did not take a break. The axes flew once more until Ubbe was reasonably satisfied with the throws.

He went to the tree again and pulled the sharp axes out of the trunk with one rough movement. The wood splintered a little, and when Ubbe had removed the ax, he felt that Alfred was standing next to him.

The brown eyes were fixed on the Viking, who quickly returned the gaze.

“Can you teach me that? I don't want to hide anymore.", he said quietly and somehow softly; Ubbe looked into the soft face, framed by dark hair, and then nodded slightly. He put the axes back in the loop of his belt.

"Of course. Why did you cut your hair off?”, Ubbe asked and nodded with a rough gesture in the direction of Alfred’s head; the young king blushed slightly and ran his hand uncertainly over his now short hair; at first he seemed embarrassed about an answer, but then he replied quietly: “I - wanted to see this as a new beginning. And at every beginning... well, the hair... just had to go."

Ubbe cast his blue eyes briefly on the king's head; since Alfred was quite a bit shorter than he was, it was not difficult for him; he could feel how Alfred became embarrassed under this look. But after a while and a slight silence, only broken by the twittering of birds, Ubbe said curtly: “Looks good. And now…"

He took two swords out of the sack he had brought with him; he threw one sword in the direction of Alfred, who caught the sword with great difficulty and extremely slack; Ubbe laughed softly. "...now we're fighting. Have you fought before?"

"No, well... once, there - no,", Alfred said, slightly depressed; Ubbe looked down at him for a moment. The two looked at each other; Ubbe could see that Alfred would be a good student, and after all, he couldn't help it that he looked so pale and fragile. And a strong mind was always good.

A sweet smell suddenly filled his nose as Alfred rolled his shoulders slightly; this smell, mixed with the smell of clearly new leather, stimulated Ubbe’s senses in a very strange way. For a small moment, he inhaled this smell through his nose, sucked it in deeply, until he felt it deep down in his lungs - only then did he put on a wild grin and let the tingling sensation caused by this smell inside him to flow through his entire body.

"Then this evening you will wish you had never asked me for help."

And with a mighty swing he took his sword back and struck in the direction of Alfred, who could just crouch and dodged with a slight gasp, while Ubbe let out an amused laugh.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for being way too late with this update, and I hope you won't be mad at me. :) <3 Enjoy the rest of your day! <3

* * *

"How was it?"

Ubbe did not answer directly; he was lying on his back on the much too soft bed. His blue eyes stared at the ceiling.

From the rustling he heard Torvi approach; the bed moved easily, with every movement she crawled up to him. Only when her little hands were on his chest did Ubbe look at her.

"How should it have been? You saw him. He is weak."

"So weak?"

Ubbe grunted slightly; he clasped his hands behind his neck and put on a slight grin - he was only too fond of remembering the more than shocked face of the king when his ax had thundered at him. He could literally taste the fear; but he would drive that fear out of the soft king.

“He's really weak. I don't think the boy has had any training yet. You should have seen him catching the sword. As if it was something very foreign.“, Ubbe grumbled; his hand ran lightly through Torvi’s hair and she leaned against his chest. And although they always made themselves comfortable in the evening, strangely enough he didn't feel like any more today. He was tired, and somehow exhausted. Even if today hadn’t been really exhausting.

"When will you see each other again?" Torvi asked softly; Ubbe cocked his chin slightly. His eyes fixed on a dark point on the ceiling, and then he said softly, “From today on, every day. Otherwise, I cannot make a warrior out of this small Englishman."

* * *

"That was pathetic," Ubbe grunted harshly to Alfred.

The young king looked at Ubbe with contracted, slightly raised eyebrows; his fingers were still slightly red from yesterday's training, and he looked a little tired around his eyes. Today he wore the same armor as yesterday, but a different, softer shirt underneath; it was midnight blue.

Ubbe returned the look. He had crossed his arms over his chest and was standing with a somewhat broader step next to the king, who almost only reached to his shoulder; his eyebrows rose. Did the boy mean that seriously?

"Was it so... so bad?" Alfred asked softly; the brown eyes focused on the somewhat distant tree trunk. Ubbe untied his arms and scratched his neck lightly. He also turned to the tree trunk and looked at the ax lying next to it, which should have been in the tree trunk and clearly _not_ next to it.

With a slight sigh, he raised his eyebrows again; he felt Alfred giving him a sideways look, but he was still looking at the ax. "The ax. Alfred, the ax was supposed to get stuck _in_ the tree trunk."

"I _did_ hit the tree trunk!" Alfred uttered slightly nervous; with quick steps he moved in the direction of the slightly damaged tree and picked up the ax from the ground. With a light blow on the rotten wood, he pointed to the tiny spot, which had indeed been a little chipped; Ubbe, however, had seen most precisely that it had happened with the blunt side of the ax, not the sharp side. He liked the young king, but he threw worse than any child in Kattegat.

Ubbe thought for a moment: he didn't want to sound disrespectful, but somehow, he had to make it clear to the king that this was just a disaster. So, he walked towards the same place where Alfred was standing; the young king's brown eyes immediately returned to him, and Ubbe smiled crookedly.

“You shouldn't throw the ax with the blunt edge. It should get stuck with the sharp side in the wood.", he explained; Alfred bit his lower lip slightly. His pale face slipped back to the tree trunk for a moment. White, straight teeth showed as he bit his lip with them; only when he had stared for a while at the rotten trunk did he look at Ubbe again.

“But that's wood. I mean, if it is a person, then he would now be..."

"Then he would have a tiny bump on his head, be angry with you and _bang!_ your head is off.”, Ubbe said amused; he pushed past Alfred and picked up another ax that had also missed earlier. For a moment he held the thick wooden handle in his hand, then he threw the ax to Alfred, who tried to catch it with a shocked look on his face. It didn't quite work - Ubbe let out an amused murmur as the thick, heavy head of the ax fell on the floor.

“You still have so much to learn. But you're also doing it wrong. You need a wide stance to throw. Come on, I'll show you."

Together they went back to their starting position. Alfred stood next to Ubbe; Ubbe showed him the best way to stand, legs apart and one leg a little further back so that it would cushion the throw - much like in a fight.

“Which is your throwing hand?” Ubbe asked; Alfred, who was trying to imitate a steady stance, looked at Ubbe questioningly for a brief moment. His brown eyes looked haphazard, until Ubbe rolled his eyes and snorted slightly. “With which hand do you usually do all things with? Like eating and stuff?"

"Oh, that... with the right. Left-handed people are descended from the devil, we say here.”, Alfred said with a slight smile; it was supposed to be some kind of joke, Ubbe thought, because he put a light, excited breathing behind it - when Ubbe did not react, the pale cheeks of the king turned red.

“If it's on the right, you go back with your right leg too. This affects your body, so you have more strength."

"Okay, I'll try." Alfred muttered; his cheeks were still the faint red, and Ubbe had to admit it actually looked quite pretty. Even if he found the king's delicate face more effeminate than manly, despite the short hair.

He checked Alfred’s stance, but his legs were still too weak. With a slight sigh, Ubbe went up to Alfred and, with a little strength, grabbed his shoulders; the young king was a little startled, but then let Ubbe surround him a little.

The shoulders in his big hand looked very delicate. When Ubbe cupped the small joints, he could literally feel the tension, and his hands looked so big on this body. Alfred had shoulders almost as delicate as Torvis; he straightened them again before pressing against Alfred's hollows of the knees with a soft kick.

“Your stand has to be harder, Alfred.” Ubbe said shortly to him; with his hands still on his shoulders, he could feel the heat and rigidity emanating from the young king - and a sweet, very light smell that seemed to come from the boy's neck.

Ubbe couldn't really describe that smell; it was as sweet as a woman's, but somehow there was something masculine and fine about it. It was like licorice roots, at least that smell reminded Ubbe for a second of the sweet taste of those roots that they had often eaten back then as children. He glanced briefly at the back of the king's neck, which he thought the scent would come from - the skin there was pale, delicate, and untouched like snow. There were no scars on the neck, and the skin looked flawless.

Typically English, Ubbe thought and snorted; he straightened Alfred a little more until he was satisfied with his position. As soft as crabs without their shells, they were a people of kittens. If they didn't have their armor, they'd fall over like flies.

When he took one last look at Alfred’s neck, he saw how slight goose bumps had run down the smooth skin.

"Throw again."

Alfred took a deep breath and raised his arm with the ax; Ubbe fixed his gaze on the tree trunk Alfred was supposed to throw at, and actually expected the ax to land there - but it landed in the dirt a few yards ahead, and Alfred let out a low snort.

"That was my fault, I was... I didn't prepare myself mentally," he mumbled softly; Ubbe gave him a puzzled look and knitted his eyebrows.

"What?"

"Well, I did not mentally prepare for the litter..."

The two looked at each other for a moment. Ubbe looked exactly at Alfred as he was serious - but inside him, a little bit of his Viking pride was just dying away. _Prepare mentally for a litter_ , had the king previously only lived and studied with women? You just throw without thinking.

Alfred opened his mouth slightly, but then closed it again; his cheeks turned into the dark, fine red again, and he nodded slightly to Ubbe.

"I guess that was wrong, right? Guess I should stop thinking, then?”, he added, and Ubbe rolled his eyes and pulled his own ax from its loop on his belt.

He tossed it to Alfred; this time he caught it, albeit extremely clumsily.

“Try not to think. If you want, take a deep breath beforehand, and then you throw with all the strength you have. Alright?”, Ubbe said firmly. In a way, he found it amusing again how terrible Alfred was doing - he didn't know that from the boys and men of his people.

He watched Alfred take the booth Ubbe had shown him; Ubbe walked around him once more, patting his back gently so that he could hold his upper body a little tighter; and then Alfred threw, after taking a deep breath.

It was still bad, but this time at least the ax got stuck in the wood.

Alfred uttered a soft "Yes!" and turned to Ubbe with a soft smile. Ubbe put on a slight grin; his blue eyes found Alfred's, and he nodded slightly.

“It will get better and better, you will see. But now we dedicate ourselves to sword fighting."

"Of course," Alfred said, but Ubbe could clearly see the skepticism on his face; he also knew exactly why.

For he also did not miss how Alfred stared at his hands with a light bite on his lower lip; he was sure there were tiny blisters and grazes there, because the rough fight with the sword always hurt the hands the first few times.

Ubbe took one of the swords leaning against a tree, and Alfred took his too. They stood opposite one another in the clearing, and Ubbe grasped his sword with great strength. Alfred, on the other hand, made a slight face; he hesitated a moment, then said lightly:

“But… could we do a little less rough today? I think my palms will tear open otherwise."

Ubbe snorted deeply; he had his eyes fixed on Alfred, and he did not miss the slight pink trace that was forming again on his cheeks. He put on a sly grin.

"They should tear open, my dear King, because this is the only way they can grow together stronger."

And with these words he ran up to Alfred and tried to kill him in his mind.

Needless to say, Alfred didn't fight really well here either. Ubbe was able to knock the sword out of his hand a few times because he was not standing firm enough, and within a very short time he had held the heavy sword to his throat exactly four times before he asked Alfred to do it again and better.

And then, after several failures and deep grunts from Ubbe, Alfred defended himself properly for the first time. He gritted his teeth and held, albeit shakily, against Ubbe’s sword - Ubbe uttered an enthusiastic “Good!” and fought back so that they could approach each other again; Alfred was able to defend himself longer, but in the end Ubbe’s sword landed on his neck again, and this time with a little more emphasis. Ubbe had stepped completely into the fight and not paid attention; so that his sword pressed minimally against the side of Alfred’s neck.

For a moment, the king had not understood what was going on; until Ubbe took the sword from his neck and there was stuck a tiny trickle of blood on there.

"Oh," Ubbe uttered, and Alfred’s hand went to his neck; he hissed softly, but Ubbe walked slowly towards him.

He roughly removed Alfred’s hand from his neck; the king blushed under that rough grip, and Ubbe carefully stroked the skin beside the wound. It wasn't deep; it was only a minimal and smooth cut that was not threatening. For a moment Ubbe stared at the blood, fascinated; it was a lovely contrast to that pale, smooth skin, and it was almost like blood in the snow after an icy battle.

When Alfred swallowed lightly, Ubbe carefully removed his hand from his throat; he looked at the wound again, then his eyes found Alfred, who had been looking at him for a little longer. The skin had felt strangely soft for a man, or it had just been Ubbe’s rough fingers who had noticed the contrast. The wind blew up a few leaves, and Alfred swallowed again.

“It's not that bad. But this will be your first scar.“, Ubbe whispered with a slight croak; he was still returning Alfred's gaze, and the boy gave a slight smile.

"Then I'll look like you soon," he said, and Ubbe gave an amused laugh.

“You clearly need a few more scars than just one. Besides, let's see if it even becomes one. It looks like you've cut yourself with a potato knife."

Alfred let out a low snort, then patted Ubbe’s upper arm lightly.

"Why do I always feel so soft when you say things like that? As if you were fighting with a woman?"

Ubbe grinned wryly; his gaze went once more to Alfred’s neck, where the fine blood ran down the skin in a small, tiny stream - and got lost in the depths of Alfred’s shirt.

"Because you still fight worse than a shieldmaiden.", Ubbe said with a laugh, and avoided Alfred’s hand that wanted to strike him.

And although he knew very well that the young man in front of him was a king and also an Englishman, posh and dressed up, Ubbe couldn't get around to feel a wave of warmth that tingled through his limbs.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all to instill a little Viking will into the young scion.

* * *


End file.
